


for the asking (the lovestories remix)

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Arthur thought he was in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the asking (the lovestories remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emei/gifts).
  * Inspired by [For the taking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/82573) by [emei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emei/pseuds/emei). 



_i._

Once upon a time, Camelot had a prince. He was brave, strong, and, perhaps, handsome, though some might have said he was not as charming as he ought to have been.

One day, something in Camelot changed. Something moved and clicked and the power the old king dreaded the most, the one from which he'd tried to protect his son for two decades, was threading its way into the prince's life.

The stories that would be told about how magic returned to Camelot would start here: how spells, charms, and incantations slipped into the castle and fell from the lips of those who no longer feared the king; how the power of the Old Religion would save some and condemn others; how a boy – a serving boy, the physician's assistant, a peasant fresh from the countryside from a tiny village outside Camelot – saved the prince.

He had blue eyes and strong hands and something moved, then _clicked_ inside Arthur when he met Merlin. Arthur thought, back then, if only he could learn to read the light in Merlin's eyes and the movement of his hands, then he would know what had shifted inside him.

Now Arthur is Camelot's king and he remembers how, all those years ago when he was still its prince, the hardest lesson he had to learn was how to be saved.

 

 _ii._

"What do you need?" Arthur murmurs, his lips at the nape of Merlin's neck. Merlin's skin is warm and damp, and if he breathes in deep, Arthur can catch the scent of fresh hay and afternoon sunshine.

"Harder," Merlin says, voice low and rough. His body tenses and Arthur skims a hand down Merlin's hip, trying to soothe him, trying to let Merlin know how he would give Merlin whatever he wants, whatever he needs, if only he would ask.

Arthur waits, the scent of hay, sunshine, and sweat filling his lungs. It's as familiar to him as the angle of Merlin's hip, the curve of his spine, the tousle of his hair, dark and wild against the white bed linens.

More often than not, these days, Merlin smells of dry herbs and parchment, with a faint, cold, almost metallic tang of magic that lingers on Arthur's tongue and in his nose. The first time he tasted it on Merlin's skin, Arthur thought _this isn't you, this isn't right,_ and he drew away, shocked, until he saw the gold shimmer from Merlin's eyes to leave them warm and blue once more.

Today, however, he smells of old familiar things, and Arthur cannot help but move his thumb in a soft, gentle motion over Merlin's hip. He hesitates, waits to see if Merlin will make a small, quiet sound and arch into his touch.

The only quiet sound Merlin makes is to repeat, "harder."

Arthur fucks Merlin until Merlin breaks beneath him, until he pants and cries out, until he looks as if he's completely used up, as if there's nothing left inside him to offer Arthur.

 

 _iii._

"You always save me," Arthur mutters, "you keep me alive."

Merlin shakes his head and cards his fingers through Arthur's hair. "Somebody has to." He touches Arthur's face. Merlin's eyes are bright with wine and candlelight and Arthur can still feel his own blood thrum with the heat of battle.

"It's always you, though." It's always Merlin – waiting at the castle gates for Arthur to return, waiting in Arthur's bed for the day to end and for Arthur to fuck him until he collapses with exhausted satisfaction.

Merlin shakes his head again. "I'll be famous someday, for saving the crown prince of Camelot."

"I'm not the prince anymore." Arthur presses his lips to Merlin's shoulder. Merlin always saves him, Merlin always says yes, Merlin always comes to his bed and lays himself open, renders himself Arthur's for the taking.

"I know." Merlin's fingers brush Arthur's hair from his forehead. "They might tell stories about me yet."

Arthur's chest tightens and he knows the story about the boy who saved his prince will not end the way he had hoped it would. They've had their moment of revelation and they've given what they could to each other.

Arthur is a king and Merlin is a sorcerer; they've saved each other. They still save each other, mark each other with bruises and take each other apart.

And yet, there is something unknown between them.

"Make me feel alive," he murmurs, knowing that only Merlin can do this for him, that he could never give himself to anyone else like this, vulnerable and wanting.

 

 _iv._

Once upon a time, Arthur thought he was in love. The feeling bore little resemblance to the great tales of _fin amour_ that he heard sung by the troubadours in his father's banquet hall or read in his own chambers by muted candlelight.

All the words, the gestures and the tokens, they all diminished when compared to the sudden swell of emotion when Arthur first looked at Merlin and thought he knew him.

Sometimes, Arthur thinks, he could feel that way again. He remembers the first brush of his mouth against Merlin's and how strange and sweet that moment hung between them. He thinks back to the summer afternoons he spent stretched out on Merlin's narrow bed, barefoot, clad only in his breeches, his thin tunic draped over Merlin's shoulders as Merlin read to him from a book of herb lore. He smiles to remember how he would skate his fingers down the length of Merlin's spine to coax a shiver from Merlin despite the heat and how Merlin would turn to him, smile, and how their hands and mouths would be all over each other once more.

He thinks, if Merlin should ask for something more than rough, desperate nights and silent, cold mornings, then he would offer what he could and offer it freely. If he should ask Arthur for love, then Arthur would tell him that such things are best left to the stories that will be told at court. He'll offer him something greater, something that will thread between the two of them and will remind them both what it feels like to be alive, to be whole, and to be known.


End file.
